The Jock Who Cried Wolf
by Dru
Summary: When Puck gets sick, and no one believes him, he starts to rethink that whole 'crying wolf' strategy.


Author: Dru and Quaili  
Characters, Pairing: Puck, Kurt, Mr Schue, Glee Club  
Summary: When Puck gets sick, and no one believes him, he starts to rethink that whole 'crying wolf' strategy.  
WARNINGS/Authors Note: Mild swearing and the practicing of Google medicine.

Okay, so Puck faked sick a lot of get out of class. A lot lot. Big deal! Like he was ever going to need any of this stuff anyway. Well maybe Math, if he decided to sell drugs in the future, but he could always pick it up on the fly later. He already spoke English, so that was another wasted class, and he would have slept through History anyway, so he might as well be able to stretch out on a bed.

And he was good at playing sick too. Scrub your eyes to make them red, spin around a little in the boy's bathroom to make yourself pale and dizzy, maybe even a couple tears. He was a pro.

Of course faking sick had the unexpected side affect that when he actually felt like shit, no one believed him.

He'd told the nurse his stomach hurt and she'd just rolled her eyes and told him to take his nap then go back to class. Puck huffed and flopped down, gently, on the squeaky plastic cushion. What a bitch. Wasn't she supposed to make people feel better?

The nap didn't help. In fact he couldn't even sleep, it hurt so much, and he thought he was gonna puke his guts up. He was planning to aim for the nurse's shoes.

He'd tried to sleep though most of his classes, or at least feign unconsciousness when the nurse wanted him to leave. His stomach was throbbing, and he felt hot, the saran wrapped pillow sticky and sweaty against his cheek.

At 3:00 the nurse kicked him out with the standard bottle of orange juice and a packet of stale animal crackers, and Puck stumbled his way to glee practice. He was the first one to arrive and collapsed into a chair breathing heavy like he'd just run a marathon. The room shimmied a bit...or maybe it was his eyes doing the shimmying. He fought with the juice bottle for all of 10 seconds before getting frustrated and tossing it on the floor.

He wrapped his arms around his stomach, then hissed and yanked them away when that just made things worse. So not fair. So he faked sick once in a while...Okay, everyday. Didn't mean he couldn't get sick for real! He should be home in bed. If Finn had waltzed in the nurses office he would have been sent home right away, and he was pretty sure Finn's teacher wouldn't have questioned him the first...okay 12th...time that he claimed he had a stomach ache. Stupid teachers. Stupid nurses. Stupid stupid stomachache.

At least today was duets, so all he really had to do was sit down for an hour and half, and try to tune out Rachel's shrieking. Then he'd go home and guilt his mom into some chicken soup. His stomach flopped at the idea, and he resisted the urge to smack it.

He slouched down in his seat as the other glee club members trickled in, scowling at nothing in particular. This usually worked to keep people away, and he really wasn't in the mood to put up with any of them. Puck swallowed hard, trying to will away the urge to puke.

Everyone else had arrived by the time Kurt showed up for Glee. Karofsky had taken to giving him noogies, of all things, and he had to duck into the bathroom for a quick hair fix. At least he didn't have a hat on for the jock to play Frisbee with today. His beautiful white fedora still stank of angry jock.

The gleeks were huddled into a few tight groups, with only Puck hunching in the top row by himself, glowering like a hungover gargoyle. Kurt sighed and made his way over to the sick looking teen. They were, after all, partners, and he wanted to head off any 'playing sick' before his duet turned into a solo.

Kurt paused in front of Puck's chair and frowned at him. "You..." Kurt trailed off. Puck did look rather horrid once he got close enough. "You look worse then normal. Are you hung over or something?"

"Fuck off." Puck growled, throwing his arm over his eyes dramatically.

Kurt rolled his eyes and snorted. "I'll take that as a yes. You really shouldn't drink on school nights."

"I'm sick" he muttered.

" 'Sick' sick or 'I forgot about the Spanish test' sick?" Kurt crossed his arms. He new from experience that Puck could be pretty convincing when he wanted something.

"Fuck. OFF!" Puck hissed, turning slightly green. Kurt took a careful step back, out of splatter range, snorted again and went over to sit with Mercedes, patting her hand and futzzing with her unfolded collar.

Soon everyone was settled and Mr Schuester was clapping his hands and babbling on about a new plan he had, or a plan that he was passing off as his own. Kurt stopped paying attention after a few minutes, watching Puck rub at the waist band of his pants and slowly turning paler.

"Puck. Puck!"

Puck and Kurt both blinked, turning their attention back to Mr. Schuester.

"You're singing a duet with Kurt remember? Come on, get up here and wow us!"

Puck stared blankly at Mr Schue, while Kurt huffed and went to stand by the piano. Evidently Puck had forgotten that they were supposed to sing today.

"_Puck_ just get up here so we can get this over with, already." Kurt sighed, arms crossed in front of him, tapping his foot impatiently. Puck had been an absolute diva about having to sing the duet with him, and now he was going to play the sick card. He should have known the knuckle dragging jock would try to skip out on him.

Puck kept staring blankly. "...what song are we supposed to be doing?"

"Noah Puckerman, stop joking around and get up here!"

"Dude, seriously. I don't know!" Puck snapped, lumbering to his feet.

Kurt rolled his eyes. They had practiced this for a week. "The theme is Disney. The Hat of Fate gave us Toy Story. We're singing..god help us... You've Got a Friend In Me."

"...seriously? That's gay." Puck muttered, stumbling over to lean against the piano beside Kurt.

Mr Schue gave him a disappointed look and handed him a copy of the sheet music.

Slowly, Puck squinted at the paper, blinked, and the swallowed loudly. "Mr Schue, I'm not feeling well. Can we do this another time?"

Kurt heaved a, possibly dramatic, sigh and Mr. Schue didn't look impressed. "You can go call your mom and lay down after you sing, if your "stomach ache" is still bothering you."

Honestly, Kurt wasn't sure how Mr. Schue managed to imply finger quotes, but he made a mental note to perfect that particular tone. It could come in handy.

Puck groaned and rubbed his eyes again.

Kurt rolled his eyes. "Stop being so dramatic. It's not that bad." He stopped and squinted at Puck, stepping closer. He maneuvered himself between Puck and the rest of the class, while Schuester took a seat. "Are you really sick, or just trying to get out of singing this song?" he asked quietly, a hand reaching out to hover over Puck's arm.

"I feel like death warmed over. And I'm not hung over. Even studs can get sick once in a while you know."

"You should go to the nurse."

Puck scowled. "I did. She told me to take a nap then go back to class. I laid down till she kicked me out then came to Glee, I still feel like shit. My stomach is killing me."

Kurt looked slightly concerned now. "Maybe you should go to the doctor? Have you eaten anything?"

"Puck," Schuester's voice broke in. "You're not getting out of singing Disney. Just sing the song then you can leave. I won't even make you sit though the others songs, though I doubt you're really sick. I know about your "headaches" you get every day just in time for math class."

There were those finger quotes again.

Puck sighed and shifted on his feet trying to focus.

Kurt studied Puck closer. "Mr Schue, believe it or not, I think Puck's actually sick. He looks more terrible then he normally does. He's pale, he's flushed, he's _swaying_ on his feet and not in a musical sense, in a 'going to pass out' sense."

"I'm fine." Puck growled, and Kurt cocked an eyebrow. "Just let's get this damn song over with." Kurt nodded, pulling up two stools.

"We've decided to do this piece sitting down, as an homage to Frank Sinatra and the Rat Pack. Very mobster Vegas." Kurt rattled off a passable lie and went to push Puck down onto one of the stools before he fell over.

A second later, Kurt was staring up at the ceiling, being squished by 180 pound of feverish, screaming jock. Well...that was new. And not exactly like he had imagined. ...not that he though about Puck lying on top of him and moaning...often.

He tried to squirm out from under Puck, who had thankfully, stopped yelling in his ear, but was clutching his stomach like he was afraid it was going to escape, elbowing Kurt in the process.

"Help!" Kurt squeaked as they were rushed by a hive of concerned gleeks. Matt and Mike grabbed Puck and lifted him off, and Kurt scurried backwards, possibly between Finn's legs. He wasn't sure, and he'd worry about that after Puck stopped scaring everyone half to death.

Puck was quickly buried under a pile of concerned students, and one guilty looking teacher. Kurt patted his pockets, bringing out his trusty iphone and opening a symptom checker app. Thank god for over cautiousness. Ever since his Dad had managed to crack his head open on a truck hood, Kurt kept an assortment of first aid apps on his phone.

Schuester was asking questions. "Where does it hurt? Are you okay? Why didn't you say you were sick?"

The group parted momentarily and Kurt could see Puck, shivering and sweating, fighting to keep from curling up around his belly. "Uh... my stomach hurts, I feel like I'm gonna puke, I can't eat anything... owshitfuck!" Puck's hand pressed against his side. "Hurts."

Kurt typed as Puck spoke and quickly flipped though results.

"Where does it hurt?" Rachel asked, fluttering uselessly to one side.

"I don't know! God, my right side I guess."

Kurt added the new tidbit of information, and narrowed the search. "By your belly button?" he asked, glancing up from his phone just in time to see Schuester give him the 'I'm very disappointed in you' look.

"Kurt, this is not the time for youtube videos."

"But it's the piano playing cat" Kurt deadpanned, with a roll of his eyes. Schuester just kept looking at him, and he had to wonder if the teacher actually knew he was joking. Kurt decided just to ignore him.

"Are you constipated, Puck?" Kurt winced as everyone's attention snapped to him. "Don't hit me for asking that." he tried to quip, scooting forward, and shoving a few of his fellow gleeks out of the way.

"Jesus Hummel!" Puck gasped, his cheeks turning red.

Kurt handed his phone to Artie, partially because he was the most level headed, but mostly because Artie was closest and knew the value of an iphone. He inched closer to Puck, reaching up and feeling Puck's forehead. "That's a yes then. Fever. Aaaand..." he pulled up Puck's shirt, slapping the jock's flailing hands away lightly. "Relax. You're not my type."

"No Homo." Puck muttered jokingly, grinning, or maybe grimacing. It was hard to tell. Kurt poked gently at a swollen looking spot between Puck's navel and hip.

Puck doubled over, nearly butting heads with Kurt, and then fell back, unconscious.

Mr Schue looked horrified. "Puck? Puck!" He checked Puck's pulse and breathing and looked up at the rest of the stunned glee club who had been watching the by play between Kurt and Puck, crowding around them. "Someone call an ambulance! Kurt, care to share your internet diagnosis, since you've decided to start playing doctor?"

Kurt sighed, knowing that the teacher was just frustrated...and kind of stupid.

"Appendicitis?" Artie asked, holding up the phone.

"Appendicitis. Fits his symptoms. And he passed out when I poked his stomach." Kurt said while he was loosening Puck's clothes. "Rachel, give me your coat, I need to elevate his feet."

"...why mine?"

"Because it's the ugliest. Sorry, sweetheart, but you know it's true. Now give." Kurt ordered while he unlaced and yanked off Puck's sneakers. "Besides I had a cousin with appendicitis. He threw up all over my new Marc Jacobs sweater at a family reunion." He wrinkled his nose at the memory. "Puck's acting a lot like him".

"I called an ambulance, they should be here in a couple minutes." Finn told Kurt from the back of the crowd, while Rachel handed over her, truly hideous, jacket.

"Good. All we can do it try to make him comfortable until they get here." Kurt said stuffing Rachel's coat under Puck's feet.

Puck's eyes fluttered and opened as he groaned. "What the fuck?"

"Don't try to move."

"What the fuck, dude?"

"Don't call me dude. And you have appendicitis. You need to lay still until the ambulance gets here. Then they can drug you up nicely and get you into surgery." He tugged at Puck's belt, ignoring the slightly glazed leer the action was rewarded with.

"Noah, you are going to be just fine. We're here for you!" Rachel told him brightly getting far to close for comfort. Kurt nearly felt bad for hoping Puck would projectile vomit down the front of her shirt. Did she have to swing those things in front of his face.

Kurt gave her a sharp look and she backed up a few steps. "Give him some air. He doesn't need to be smothered right now." He swept his best bitch face over the group, and they all stepped back a few paces.

Puck groaned, and stared up in confusion at the Glee club surrounding him. "...why am I on the floor?"

"Puck, you fainted. I'm sorry I didn't believe you. Kurt figured out what was wrong, and help should be here any minute now." Mr Schue told him, from his position alongside the banished, and somewhat useless, gleeks.

"I didn't faint. Guys don't faint."

"You swooned like a Victorian lady with the vapors." Kurt informed him cheerfully.

Puck looked outraged.

Kurt snorted. "You have appendicitis. I think a little fainting can be excused without reflecting badly on your manhood."

"Why are you being nice to me?" Puck ask suspiciously. "I've been bullying you since like forever. ...am I dying or something?"

"Don't be a drama queen. You're not going to die. I'm being nice because I'm a nice person. Stop giggling!" he snapped glaring over his shoulder at Mercedes. Mike and Matt were covering their mouths to hide grins. "You two!" he pointed. "Go flag down the ambulance and bring them here."

Both boys nodded and rushed out, and Kurt turned his attention back to Puck.

"Dude I throw you in dumpsters and ruin all your prissy gay clothes."

"Don't make me poke you in the stomach again. I'm not actually a doctor, I haven't taken any oaths to do no harm."

"Kurt, don't threaten Puck."

"He's just being a bitch. It's his natural state, Mr Schue."

"I'll poke you, I mean it, Puckerman."

"Oh like it's not the truth." Puck muttered closing his eyes swallowing roughly, breathing raggedly, pain getting worse. Kurt soothed his fingers over Puck's clammy forehead.

"Doesn't mean _you_ get to call me a bitch, Puckerman." Kurt kept his voice icy while he grabbed and held Puck's hand. He felt a tight squeeze and smiled down at the jock, before giving the rest of glee a look threatening death to all who even thought to say anything about it.

"Maybe I'm just being psychologically manipulative so you'll develop reverse Stockholm Syndrome and be plagued with guilt for being a jerk." Kurt mused.

Puck blinked stupidly. "Never mind." Kurt said, using his free hand to fuss with Puck's rumpled clothing.

"So you really were sick, and no one believed you?" he asked, conversationally, and Puck grunted an affirmative. Kurt kept talking, hoping the conversation would distract Puck. "I think Mr. Schuester would call that a teaching experience."

"Huh?" Puck asked, squeezing Kurt's hand.

"A lesson" Kurt prompted. "Maybe about jocks crying wolf."

Puck blinked at him again. "Lesson?"

"Mm-hmm" Kurt hummed, then added in an uncannily accurate imitation of their teacher "What have we learned?

"Nurse is a bitch." Puck muttered. "And I'd rather pass out than sing Disney songs." He closed his eyes, turning his cheek against the cool tile. "And you screech like a girl when a guy's on top of you."

The gleeks tittered.

Kurt shrieked out a "NO-ah!", offended, and smacked him on the shoulder, but quickly went back to smoothing down Puck's shirt with his free hand for several minutes, until he could hear running footsteps in the hall.

Kurt's head swung around when the door opened and a pair of paramedics came in. Kurt tried to move back, but Puck hung on to his hand, so was forced to stay in arm reach while the medics started firing off questions and examining Puck.

Mr Schue stood up and backed away, giving the medics more room, herding the rest of the class back to their seats. "Has anyone called Puck's mother? Someone should call his mother." The teacher sounded in shock. "I-I'm going to go check his records and find the number."

"It's okay, dude. I got it." Finn said absentmindedly staring at the medics working on Puck, loading him onto a gurney. Puck was grinning up at one of the female paramedics and flirting between gasps of pain, and Kurt cuffed him lightly.

"Puck, you really need to let go of me now, the paramedics are going to take you to the hospital."

"...I'm fine. Totally fine." Puck muttered, eyes squeezed shut, jaw clenched, and Kurt's hand still clutched in his own. His fingers were turning white, Kurt notices absently. He patted Puck's hand.

"Are you his boyfriend? It's okay, you can ride with him sweetie."

"I am not his boyfriend!" Kurt squeaked, and Puck gritted out a "Not gay!".

The medics looked doubtful. "…Okay. However, he seems scared and wants you there. Sometimes it helps to have a "friend" along". Kurt wondered if he was the only person who hadn't mastered verbal finger quotes.

"Not scared. 'm fine." Puck muttered though clenched teeth.

"Do you want me to come with you?" Kurt asked, honestly. Puck blinked up at him, and they stared at each other for a few seconds, until one of the paramedics coughed politely. Kurt lifted an eyebrow, not looking away, and Puck nodded slightly.

Kurt sighed. "Alright I'm going, let's just get him to the hospital before he dies." He followed them out of the door, trying to keep up with their long strides

The glee club watched them roll Puck from the room, all looking shocked and worried. Will ran a hand over his face.

"Well that certainly was a dramatic way to get out of singing Disney. Let's call it a day, I think we're all going to want to go to the hospital to find out how Puck's doing. Finn, you said you had his mother's number?"

"Uh, yeah, I got his home number." Finn held up his phone as proof, looking a little shell shocked. "But I don't think she'll be home yet. She works till late. His sister might be home...but she can't drive. She's like...7."

"Yes," Will answered slowly. "but she might have her mother's cell phone number, and then we can call her." He bent down to pick up the scattered sheet music that Puck had dropped. How had he not seen that Puck really wasn't feeling well?

"Oh! That's a good idea!" Finn turned his phone and hit the number.

"Don't tell her about Puck, yet. We don't want to scare her if she's home alone, just ask for her mom's cell number." Will advised. Of course, this was the 5th stomach ache Puck had had this month, along with migraines, low blood sugar, lupus and a memorable case of bloating and cramps. Will really couldn't be blamed for not taking him seriously.

Finn nodded and moved a few steps off to talk to Puck's sister, as everyone started getting their things to go to the hospital. Tina was helping Quinn and Brittany gather up Kurt's and Puck's things, and everyone was busily texting or whispering, working out a carpool system.

Will sighed, and thought about lessons. He had been too quick to dismiss Puck, and completely underestimated Kurt's competence, and downright kindness, during the situation. Well maybe they'd all handle it a little better next time.

Artie rolled by and handed him Kurt's phone, opened to display a text message from someone named "Puckassaurus Douchecannes (The Asshole Jock. endangered.) A small cartoon dinosaur peered up at him, a little "rawwr" speech bubble hovering over its head. The text message itself was spelled correctly though, so Kurt had apparently taken over Puck's phone.

"Mr. S.

"Puck insisted I tell you that he's sorry about the wolves. I think his painkillers are kicking in. Called his Mom, she's on her way. Someone needs to babysit his sister. -kurt."

Will shook his head, and then nearly dropped the phone as it vibrated, another message popping up.

"Puck says anyone but Santana. She's not good with kids, and might eat them. See you at the hospital. Don't worry. He'll be fine. -kurt."


End file.
